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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082885">Quarantine Makes Fools of Us All</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreink91/pseuds/spectreink91'>spectreink91</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oops, My Mask Don't Hide My Feelings [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Exhibitionism, Angst, Anxious and Depressed Spidey, Boning, Bucky having a bad brain day and being a dick, COVID pandemic fanfic, Cranky Spidey, Cuddling, Cutting with glass, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Domestic spideypool, Don't piss off Peter or Tony, Established Relationship, Flashing, Going stir crazy, Grief/Mourning, Guilt-ridden Spidey, Home Life, Hurt Peter, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Memory hurts, Mocking Suicide, Naked Spidey, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Peter Missing Gwen, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker isn’t handling quarantine well, Peter can be such a grumpy bitch, Peter is just now facing his grief, Peter is of age, Peter learning to love and trust Wade, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quarantine fanfic, Sexual Frustration, Steve is caught between a rock and a hard place, Stony angst, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags will be updated as chapters are posted, Therapy Session, Wade Thought Boxes, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson has panic attacks, Wade Wilson is sweet as candy, Wade’s the mature one in this, Wet Dream, Yellow and White are Assholes, Yep that tag is the best, flying dick, relationship angst, wade being sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:29:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,176</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreink91/pseuds/spectreink91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker (Spider-Man) has moved in with his boyfriend, Wade Wilson (Deadpool), just before lockdown orders hit NYC. Because of the pandemic, the materials to update the Avengers’ suits for added biological protection is delayed, which means Peter is stuck at home. And having to face how depressed he is, how little he’s actually dealt with his grief over Gwen, and just how much he loves Wade. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, yet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oops, My Mask Don't Hide My Feelings [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(I would HIGHLY recommend reading Red and Blue Slushees, the first work in this series, in order to get some plot and emotional character context that leads them to this point.) </p><p>So the initial inspiration for this fanfic was from a real tumblr post about how a guy did this to his wife...I’ve been laughing at that post for DAYS.</p><p>But then this turned from funny to FEELS because Spidey is...well, Spidey, and is carrying enough guilt for a hundred people.</p><p>Peter baby needs to let himself be loved, and to learn to accept what he can’t change from his past.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was, bar none, the most embarrassing day of Peter Parker’s entire life. </p><p>First off, they’d been in quarantine for over two months, okay? It might as well have been two years. </p><p>And until Stark got him his updated suit and mask with bio protection, Wade begged him to stay home. Which included no web-slinging. </p><p>Moral of the story, Wade’s beloved “Petey Pie” was about to explode from lack of outdoor stimulation and there’s only so many ways he and Deadpool could fuck on every surface of Wade’s apartment (including the ceiling, with considerable help from Peter’s webs and Wade’s absolute insistence that if he fell, he’d be fine). </p><p>The apartment was technically theirs, now. That still made Peter double-take, but not necessarily in a bad way. What with inevitable quarantine and Peter being more at Wade’s place than his own, he decided to take the plunge and ask ‘Pool if he could move in with him. After squealing so loud Peter temporarily lost his hearing, Wade helped him move his stuff that day, and less than a week later, the city-wide lockdown went into place.</p><p>It wasn’t that Peter disagreed with the lockdown or the reasons behind it; but dammit, he was a superhero. He wasn’t meant to be kept safe and tucked in behind germ-free glass. And although crime had dropped significantly since the quarantine, Spider-Man lay awake more nights than not, mask clutched tight in his fist, watching his beloved city out the window and gut clenching at imagining all the people the police didn’t get to in time. </p><p>If it weren’t for Wade loving him so damn much and begging him to not go out using those adorable blue puppy dog eyes, and Stark giving him the mentor/dad guilt trip and insisting that his altered suit would be ready as soon as the delayed materials arrived, Peter would be sneaking out to swing between his beloved skyscrapers every night—before pandemic hit, that was the one thing that helped with his insomnia. Now, he just laid awake, useless—until sheer, death-like exhaustion drug him into unconsciousness like a boulder. </p><p>He didn’t remember the last time he’d slept all the way through the night. </p><p>Or when he did and wasn’t tortured by nightmares. </p><p>Wade often told him he had telepathy, but Peter thought the same thing about Wade—inevitably, when Peter would startle awake in fear, or start crying in his pillows after laying awake for hours, Wade’s warm arms would pull him close and mutter sweet reassurances in his ear, telling him he loved him, over and over again. It reminded him how lucky he was to have him, and that Wade slept far worse than even he did. </p><p>Sometimes it was overwhelming, realizing how much Wade loved him...and just how much Peter loved him back. Maybe it was supposed to be overwhelming.</p><p>It was hard enough admitting to Wade one morning in tears that most of the time the wet dreams that stole what sleep he got weren’t of him and Wade—they were he and Gwen. </p><p>He hated himself for still longing for her, when he had such an amazing boyfriend who loved him body and soul. </p><p>Wade, being Wade, thought it was hot. </p><p>And, with a misty look in his eye, told him that Vanessa still visited his dreams in ways that shook his bones. </p><p>Peter felt completely unreasonable jealousy at that. </p><p>He was such a freaking hypocrite. </p><p>But back to why Spider-Man, naked and dripping wet with a hastily tied towel around his waist, was hiding in their bedroom closet. </p><p>Peter was TIRED, DAMNIT. </p><p>AND BORED OUT OF HIS MIND. </p><p>And when Wade got onto his laptop for the hundredth time that morning, Peter figured he’d “punish” his boyfriend for not showering with him or not giving him the last piece of bacon or for just being so frigging cute. </p><p>So he took the towel off his waist, ran buck naked and giggling from the bathroom to the desk, and smacked Wade’s cheek with his dick, laughing at the look of utter shock and hilarious amusement on his normally-pervy boyfriend’s face. </p><p>Until he saw that Wade was on a Zoom call. </p><p>With Tony Stark, Dr. Banner, and Steve Rogers. </p><p>Who were all staring at him in wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock. </p><p>“Avengers meeting, remember?” Wade chirped in a tiny, laughter-stifled voice. </p><p>“OH MY GOD, WADE!” Peter screamed, wrapping the towel around his waist and bounding across the room. </p><p>“I’m not the one who just slapped me with his dick!” Wade laughed, Dr. Banner howling laughing with him, Stark shocked and stuttering, Rogers choking on his coffee. </p><p>He shoved the closet door closed just as Wade stopped laughing long enough to excuse them from the meeting and saying they’d catch up tomorrow. </p><p>Peter curled up into a ball under their hanging super suits and couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream or cry or destroy everything in the apartment. </p><p>It wasn’t his fault. </p><p>It was this fucking pandemic. </p><p>He needed to go web-slinging again soon or he’d implode. </p><p>He bit the wet towel between his teeth. </p><p>Yeah, it was his fault. </p><p>But dammit. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. </p><p>And he was just so tired. </p><p>He seriously wondered with an aching drop in his gut if he’d ever actually sleep through the night again. </p><p>After a long few minutes, there was a quiet knock on the closet door. </p><p>“Petey?”</p><p>“Go away, Wade,” Peter snapped, more tears than heat in his voice. “I’m not coming out until you do.”</p><p>There was a pause.</p><p>“So you’ll be...” Deep breath. “...Coming out of the closet?”</p><p>Dammit, Wade made him laugh. </p><p>He inched the door open, keeping his face hidden in the towel bunched on his knees.  </p><p>“It’s a little late for the towel, Honey Bunch,” Wade chuckled, squatting on his knees.</p><p>“Shut up, Asspool.”</p><p>Wade snorted. </p><p>“C’mon, we’ve all seen our nether regions in the Tower locker room. This won’t scar ‘em. Though they might be jealous at how adorable Spidey Jr. is, even soaking wet and flying across their screen.” </p><p>Peter groaned in mortification and braced his hands over his ears. </p><p>Wade laughed, sitting on the floor next to him. </p><p>“Who’d have thought my Baby Boy had an exhibitionist in him?” </p><p>Peter whined, burying his head in the towel on his knees. “If I hadn’t just flashed my wet dick in front of three of my heroes and fucking bosses, maybe I’d agree.”</p><p>He was gonna start crying again. </p><p>Dammit. </p><p>Wade’s warm arms wrapped around him and Peter growled even as he let himself be tugged onto the merc’s shoulder. </p><p>“It’s not a big deal, Petey Pie, I promise,” Wade murmured in his warmest, kindest tone. “If you are that worried about what they’ll think, I have a number of Stark’s photographed indiscretions bookmarked....for research purposes, of course.” </p><p>Peter coughed and sniffed and shook his head, keeping his eyes pressed shut. </p><p>“Peter, hey,” Wade murmured, running his hand up and down his wet back. “Babe, talk to me. What’s going on? The Spidey I know would be daring me to flash the Avengers next.”</p><p>Peter chuckled, rubbing his hands hard on his wet eyes. </p><p>“Okay, I dare you,” he said, pitifully failing at making his voice sound confident. </p><p>He sniffled and swallowed and sniffled again and returned his head to his knees. </p><p>“Peter,” Wade urged, taking Peter’s clenched hand and soothing it open with gentle caresses. “Talk to me, Webs. Please let me in.”</p><p>That’s all it took to make Peter lose it. </p><p>“I’m stronger than this,” Peter sobbed, limbs curling over Wade’s shoulders and dragging himself into his lap. “I’m stronger than this quarantine. But I can’t...I can’t do this, Wade. I feel like I’ve been flayed open and am just bleeding out, with no relief in sight. What am I supposed to do if I can’t help people?”</p><p>Wade stilled and pulled back, wiping his thumbs over Peter’s wet cheeks. </p><p>“Is that all you think you’re good for?”</p><p>“You know the answer to that, ‘Pool,” he sobbed into Wade’s hoodie shoulder. </p><p>“How long has it been since you’ve slept, Spidey? Actually slept, not just a cat nap?”</p><p>Peter cried harder. “I don’t know—” </p><p>He was still crying, whimpering nonsense he knew he wouldn’t remember and would be mortified of if he did, when Wade picked him up, dried him off, and tucked him into bed, making him drink half a dose of Niquil (if he wasn’t so damn tired and sleep deprived, he would’ve fought him on it). Before he could start crying again, he curled into his pillow and slept. </p><p>~~~~~~~~</p><p>He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard. </p><p>He writhed and bucked and thrust into the mattress, gripping the sheets in his shaking hands, not sure if he needed sleep or sex more—god, it hurt so much—he just needed a little relief—</p><p>Her long blonde hair tickled his neck and cheeks as she pulled him onto his back, giggling softly and kissing him until he was moaning and begging for her to take him—to suck him dry. </p><p>“Gwen—“ He gasped, thrusting into her wet, warm heat, her tongue twirling and twisting around him and driving him mad, like only she could. “—Gwen—please!”</p><p>He tore awake with a begging groan, kicking his feet and sparks tingling up his hips and down his legs, warm and heavy and secure under Wade’s comforting weight over his waist. </p><p>Wade slurped around his dick, loud and sloppy like he knew Peter liked, and lathed his tongue on the underside and pressed over the slit—Peter gasped, arching his back as his cock pulsed. </p><p>“ ‘Pool...please...more!” he begged.  </p><p>The merc continued his slow ministrations and Peter relaxed back into his pillow, letting his legs rest on the small of Wade’s back and closing his eyes, hissing at the press of a wet digit in his ass and groaning again, louder this time, when Wade swallowed him to the base. </p><p>“Oh god—“ Peter begged. “Wade—hnng—please—!“</p><p>Wade smiled, mouth still slurping, and bobbed his head, pressing his finger further in and sending Peter lurching forward and thrusting desperately with his aching cock, back onto Wade’s finger and forward into his mouth. </p><p>Wade pulled off enough to tell him, “Cum for me, baby,” before swallowing him back down. </p><p>Three more loud, obnoxious sucks and Peter was pinning Wade’s head to his thrusting hips, cock twitching and pulsing and spilling down the merc’s throat. Peter fell back, heaving and groaning and shaking, panting for breath and wheezing from the pleasure still cresting over him in steadily abating waves. </p><p>He was already half-asleep from the adrenaline dump and the afterglow of a fucking awesome orgasm, grabbing at Wade with flopping arms and weakly tugging him further up on the bed. </p><p>“Wade...babe—‘Pool—get up here—“</p><p>Wade laughed and crawled up, urging Peter’s head into his pillow and Peter instinctually curling around him. </p><p>“I’m so tired, Wade. So fucking tired,” he wept quietly, too tired to actually start crying again but his voice still warbled. “...God, I miss her so much.”</p><p>Wade kissed his forehead, rubbing his back, rocking Peter back and forth. </p><p>“I know, baby. I know.”</p><p>Peter was already falling back into a haze of sleep and warmth and exhaustion, and he kissed Wade’s neck with sloppy, wet kisses. </p><p>“Please don’t go,” he murmured as sleep tugged his eyelids shut, heart aching in his chest as he relaxed against him. </p><p>“Not a chance,” Wade replied, voice shrouded behind the mist of his exhaustion. “You’re stuck with me, baby. As long as you want me here.”</p><p>Peter heard him. He should’ve replied. </p><p>But he was so tired. </p><p>As Wade kissed his forehead and tucked him in tight, Peter realized two things:</p><p>One, that Wade was still hard and didn’t even vocalize it. He wanted Peter’s rest more than his own pleasure. </p><p>Two, that Peter deserved Wade less and less the more days that passed. </p><p>A warm hand on his creased brow startled his thoughts, and Wade murmured in his ear:</p><p>“I love you, Peter. Go to sleep.”</p><p>He did, but not without being pissed that Wade read his thoughts so easily, and that he felt the knots in gut untie and finally let him fall back asleep, arms tight around Wade’s waist and his breath warm on Wade’s neck.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter and Wade butt heads as Peter’s nightmares worsen, and Webs is refusing any and all help, failing to convince himself or anyone else that he can do it on his own, and believing the lie that he doesn’t deserve help. Ghosts of Peter’s past make unexpected appearances, and an attempt at therapy leaves Peter worse off than before.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>LOTS of angst in this one. Gonna put TRIGGER WARNINGS here for nightmares, panic attacks, PTSD flashbacks, and contemplating self-harm. </p><p>This one is rough, y’all. I promise this fic has a happy ending, but we gotta get through a lot of pain to get there. 💔😭</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wade snipped the end of the medical tape and pressed its edge to Peter’s shoulder, the gauze covering the small cut that Peter got on the corner of the bed frame when he fell. </p><p>It was far too large a bandage for the size of the cut, but far be it for Peter to try and keep Wade from freaking out over him. Like he always did. </p><p>“Better?” Wade asked after tucking the blanket back around his shoulders. </p><p><em>No</em>, Peter thought bitterly. <em>It’ll never be better</em>. </p><p>He nodded. “Yeah.” He shuffled anxiously, avoiding Wade’s concerned eyes. He had no doubt that Wade knew he was lying. </p><p>Wade sat with a heavy sigh on the side of the bed. </p><p>“Petey...” he started, pausing and biting his lip. </p><p>He nearly reached out to touch Wade’s shoulder, a more-than-deserved sign of comfort for the man who always took care of him, but he didn’t. He was so fucking angry at him. </p><p>...Angry at him for what? </p><p>Taking care of him? </p><p>Making sure he slept? </p><p>Making sure he ate?</p><p>
  <em>What the fuck is wrong with me?</em>
</p><p>Wade looked at Peter over his shoulder, eyes glistening, and took Peter’s phone from the table, turning it in his hand and setting it next to him. </p><p>“I think you need to call Xavier.”</p><p>He was right. Peter knew he was right, but he still recoiled in anger and turned on his side, wincing at the pain from his cut against the mattress. </p><p>“Webs...”</p><p>Peter’s eyes burned. </p><p>“It...” He sniffled, voice shaking. “It was just a nightmare, Wade. It could’ve been worse.” </p><p>Wade exhaled sharply and Peter shut his eyes, a terrible liar even to himself. </p><p>He hadn’t had a nightmare that bad since Uncle Ben died, and he woke to find himself clung to the side of his apartment building in nothing but his boxers, one hand stuck to the window ledge. </p><p>At least he hadn’t dropped that night. </p><p>“And what happens when you forget to stay inside?” Wade snapped. “What if you fall off the skyscraper next time?!” </p><p>Peter glanced at him over his shoulder, chest aching. </p><p>Wade eyes were wide, and wet, his hand covering his mouth and his shoulders shaking. </p><p>“I caught you this time, Peter,” he murmured. “But what about next time?” </p><p>He hung his head, and started crying. </p><p>Peter pressed his eyes tight and crawled over to him, tugging on Wade’s forearm as he lifted the covers. </p><p>“Please,” he whispered, not trusting his voice not to break. “Please, Wade, don’t cry—baby, I’m so sorry I scared you. I’m so sorry I’ve been such an asshole...I’m scared, too....I don’t know—“ </p><p>He stopped, biting his trembling lip and hand stilling on Wade’s. </p><p>Wade wipes his hand across his eyes and sniffed, kneeling on the bed next to him, cupping his face in his hands. </p><p>“Wade,” Peter stuttered, voice cracking as he started crying, too. “Please...”</p><p>The merc kissed him, long and slow, and Peter wept into the kiss, all his anger dissolved into what it really was—utter and horrific guilt. </p><p>Wade had enough to deal with, between his nightmares, and boxes, and physical pain, and his own fucked up memories that made Peter’s look pleasant. </p><p>He shouldn’t have to carry this, too.</p><p>“Shhhh,” Wade whispered, tucking his head over Peter’s neck as he crawled over him, framing him with his body and pulling him into an embrace. “It’s okay...it’s going to be okay.”</p><p>“No,” Peter wept, hard, curling into Wade’s neck when he finally lay beside him. “No, it’s not...I won’t ever heal from this...I can’t ever heal from this....I killed her, Wade—I snapped her neck, trying to save her. If I’d been closer...if I’d been paying more attention...if I’d just threw myself faster, further, she’d—she’d still be here. I can’t ever forgive myself for what I did to her...If I do, then it will make her death for nothing—“</p><p>He broke down sobbing, choking on his saliva and snot as he hyperventilated. </p><p>“Petey...”</p><p>Peter burrowed into Wade’s warm neck and longed to taste his sweat, his musk. But all he could do was cough, and gasp, it taking him a full minute to realize he was having a panic attack—another feat that hadn’t happened to him since Uncle Ben died. </p><p>“Pete...”</p><p>He shook his head, choking on his inhale as he tried to speak. </p><p>“Peter, hey...”</p><p>He finally raised his eyes, chest and shoulders heaving as he raised his head from where he was now propped on his elbows over the mattress, gasping and coughing into his pillow. </p><p>Wade smiled a concerned, warm smile, and said, “Breathe with me, okay?”</p><p>A shaky, tentative inhale, following Wade’s warm prodding, and an even tighter and more painful exhale, and Peter was reaching desperately for Wade, choking on a bitter sob when Wade pulled away from him. </p><p>“No, Spidey, not yet...trust me, okay?”</p><p>He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks as he begrudgingly followed Wade’s breathing exercise again, clinging to the warm syllables of him counting, all too slowly for Peter’s taste, up to ten, once, twice. </p><p>He hated to admit it, but it was helping, and he reached for Wade’s arm. Wade murmured an attempt at a soothing apology when he pulled back, telling him to give it a couple minutes and then he’d cuddle him until he melted into a puddle, but Peter wanted it now. </p><p>He needed Wade’s hands on him, grounding him, making him shiver—why wouldn’t he touch him? </p><p>He reached out for him, and took his hand, the sensation suddenly so painful and terrifying he cried out and screamed into his pillow, entire body shaking.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Wade soothed, abandoning the attempt and curling his shoulder over him and pulling him flush against him. “It’s alright...I’m right here...you can touch me, you can do whatever you need to, just open your eyes, Petey...open your eyes...I’m right here...I’m always here, and I always will be...Look at me, honey. Please open your eyes.”</p><p>Peter hadn’t realized he still had his eyes closed and opened them, groaning in relief and arousal when their hips ground against each other. </p><p>That’s it. That’s what he needed. That touch, that reminder...</p><p>“Wade—“ Peter begged. “Please...touch me...”</p><p>“One more deep breath, and I’ll make you cum so many times you’ll see stars,” Wade murmured, hot and wet in his ear.</p><p>Another count of ten, up and down, and Peter found his anxiety burned away in the aching desire standing erect between his legs. </p><p>He wept and ached and gasped and rolled his hips, again and again and again, and Wade held his hands tight on his sides, moaning and keening and encouraging him to push as hard as he needed to, Peter hardly inhaling again before he was cumming and crying, and finally collapsed against Wade’s chest. </p><p>He didn’t black out, exactly, but he wasn’t present to himself for a long time, only rousing from the fog and haze and dinge of exhaustion when Wade was sliding Peter’s boxers down his hips and tossing them into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. </p><p>“Did you cum?” Peter managed to rasp against Wade’s throat, cuddling closer and kissing his neck. </p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>Peter smiled, pain and pleasure knotting in his chest like suffocating cloth.</p><p>“Who taught you how to do that? Diffuse that shit.”</p><p>“Vanessa,” Wade murmured, voice quiet. “Even before....all of this,” he motioned to his scarred chest and down, “...I’d get ‘em real bad. Panic attacks, night terrors, and all that...” At the question in Peter’s eyes, he replied, “I’ve done a lot of things, even before I was the Merc, that I’m not proud of.” He kisses him. “I’m sorry I didn’t touch you at first...sometimes I lose it when I’m panicking and someone touches me.”</p><p>Peter stroked his cheek, and kissed it. </p><p>“This is new for me,” he murmured. “I appreciate you using your experience to try and help me.”</p><p>He drew his arms around him, savoring the way Wade always melted against him when he hugged him. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured, “I pushed you to bone when you didn’t want to...just now, I couldn’t help wanting it...but I shouldn’t have forced you—“</p><p>Wade stopped him with a warm thumb pressed to his mouth, scarred lips kissing his temple.</p><p>“First off, I never not want to make love to you, or fuck you, or suck you off, or bone you, or any of the million nasty, naughty, glorious things we’ve exposed this apartment to. And besides, what have you told me, when I wake up screaming, and thrashing, and hard as a fucking rock, and I’m begging for relief?” </p><p>Peter sighed, smiling. “That I am here to help, in what way I can, that will help keep you from hurting yourself.”</p><p>Wade’s eyes spoke all the worry for Peter that he couldn’t articulate before, and he shut his eyes in realization and pressed his head to Wade’s chest. </p><p>“Oh, Wade...babe, I’d never hurt myself,” he whispered, kissing his neck in apology and understanding. </p><p>Wade sighed, glancing to the hinges where his old bathroom door used to be, marked with the tallies of his endless suicide attempts. </p><p>“Never say never, Baby Boy,” he murmured, voice rough. “I‘ve been in every shadow in that pit...” His arm paused halfway up Peter’s back. “I would give every last bit of myself to keep you from experiencing that...but baby, even I can’t stop you, if you decide that my company isn’t enough.”</p><p>Peter’s gut soured at the unspoken plea. </p><p>“Why are you so hellbent on me calling Xavier?”</p><p>“Why aren’t you hellbent on calling him?” Wade replied, voice hard. “He’s been trying to reach you for weeks, Petey...and you only stopped your phone appointments after you moved in with me.”</p><p>He stood, sliding Peter slowly onto the bed beside him, crossing to the other end of the room and leaning against the bedroom door. </p><p>“Is it me, Peter?” He turned, eyes wet again. “Did I do something that’s making you cut yourself off from him? When it’s so fucking obvious you need better advice than what I can give you?” He panted, huffing for breath as he choked out, “Am I too clingy or too loud or—“ He hissed in pain, recoiling and pressing his closed fist to the bedroom door so hard, the wood creaked under the strain. </p><p>Those damn boxes. Peter would give every cent he had, and more, to give Wade freedom from them.</p><p>“Shut up, he’s a grown man, he can tell me to fuck off and I wouldn’t stop him—NO! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He coughed, saliva flying across the room. “Stop it! He said he loves me, and he means it! None of this means—!”</p><p>Peter was already standing on shaky legs and bounding across the room to him, taking Wade’s seizing hands, fingers hovering over the scarred marks above his ears where Wade habitually cut with his nails when he needed relief. </p><p>“Wade...” Peter breathed, afraid to touch him but unable to keep himself from holding his trembling hands. </p><p>Harsh, bitter grunts and curses were Wade’s response, eyes clenched and breath rapid and Peter took a shaking breath. If Wade fell too fast, even Peter might not be able to get him out it. Not without physical force, anyway.</p><p>He released Wade’s hands long enough to dash across the room for one of his web shooters, sliding across the floor back to him and slipping the metal contraption in Wade’s clenching fingers. </p><p>“Remember the night you took us flying?” Peter whispered, curling Wade’s fingers under his as he stroked the metal of his beloved invention. “Remember how much fun we had, how well you did, swinging and rappelling and gliding us through the city?” </p><p>Wade’s breath was beginning to slow, and Peter swore he saw a nod through the angry grumblings the merc snapped at White and Yellow.</p><p>Peter pressed closer, mouth hovering over the shell of Wade’s ear, suddenly more aware of his nakedness now than when they made love the night before.</p><p>“Remember how you sucked me dry? How you webbed me and left me dangling, my mouth open to scream and groan as you made me cum so hard I blacked out?”</p><p>“Oh fuck, Spidey,” Wade groaned from the back of his throat and exhaling at the regained use of his voice. </p><p>Though he sounded better, he was still shaking like a leaf. Peter had learned the hard way the first time this happened to think that they were out of the woods, yet. </p><p>“Do I need to web you, ‘Pool?” Peter asked as gently as he could for how his heart was pounding. </p><p>He hated doing it, but when they’d first started dating, they agreed it was the best way to keep both of them safe when Wade inevitably fell into a violent psychosis that Peter couldn’t handle. It had only happened twice since they’d dated, but the last time it took nearly six hours for Wade to pull out of it. If ‘Pool hadn’t made him promise, Peter would’ve called the paramedics. </p><p>Wade shook his head, eyes still clamped shut. </p><p>“Nah, I’ll—“ He paused, huffing. “I’ll be fine. I need...”</p><p>“Need what, babe?”</p><p>Wade chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “A reset.”</p><p>He squeezed Peter’s hand as his brows met in worry. </p><p>“Wade—“</p><p>He kissed him softly, Peter tasting Wade’s despair in the brush of his lips. </p><p>“I made a promise, babe,” Wade murmured, voice lackluster, and tired. “I won’t use my Throne for anything but a chair again.” He heaved, pressing his fingers into his eyes. “But I could use a stiff drink.”</p><p>He met Peter’s eye, stroking off a tear he didn’t realize was on his cheek. </p><p>“...I’ll blast my headphones, when you call him,” Wade said. “I won’t hear a thing. Please, baby. This is only gonna get worse...and—“ He stopped, voice choked with tears. “I can’t stand to see you like this, and not be able to help you.” </p><p>Peter lowered the web shooter and tossed it on the bed behind him. </p><p><em>That makes both of us,</em> Peter grumbled internally. </p><p>He really had no right to grumble, though. Not over this. </p><p>Wade had had at least three if not four phone conversations with Dr. Xavier since quarantine. </p><p>He wondered how often Wade talked about him...or if he talked about him at all. </p><p>Wade made it no secret that most of his sessions were still about Vanessa, and that he was starting to delve into some things from his past. </p><p>Just like Peter should be. </p><p>
  <em>I am a royal asshole.</em>
</p><p>“Please, babe?” Wade asked again, voice quiet with exhaustion.</p><p>Peter took his hand and led him back to the bed, tucking him under the covers, tight along his sides, and joshing Wade under his arms just enough to make him smile. </p><p>“Sleep now, Wade,” he said, hissing at the bolt of pain in his side as he leaned down to kiss his forehead. He must’ve pulled a muscle when he fell last night. </p><p>“Petey—“</p><p>“I’m gonna take a shower,” he murmured, smile fading into something more serious—a look Peter knew Wade would have no issue understanding: it was time to drop it. </p><p>Wade deflated as he shut his eyes, Peter’s heart aching as his boyfriend fell asleep. </p><p>What a fucking awful morning. </p><p>As he shut and locked the bathroom door behind him, he leaned against it and just realized he’d taken his phone with him. The lock screen photo made his chest ache. He and Wade, in his favorite spot on the old lion’s head, an intentional copy of the selfie on his home screen of he and Gwen a few weeks before she died, in nearly the same pose. </p><p>Both Gwen and Wade, kissing his cheek, arm wrapped tight around him. </p><p>Both Gwen and Wade, who told Peter they loved him nearly the same day they met. </p><p>Both Gwen and Wade, who saw all Peter’s dark insides and decided to love him anyway. </p><p>It was staggering how much older Peter looked in the second selfie than he had in the first. </p><p>Only a few months apart, and he looked like he’d aged years. </p><p>“Gwen...” He bit his lip, resting his head on the wall behind him. “Do you hate me, wherever you are?” </p><p>He locked his phone, setting it face-down on the countertop. </p><p>“Would you hate me for loving someone so much, so soon after you? For picturing he and I going all the way—rings, marriage, the works?” </p><p>He shut his eyes, imagining he was clinging to a building face, against a glass roof on a skyscraper, letting himself fall into the blanketed expanse of the starry night sky above him. </p><p>“I’d meant it when I’d promised I would love you forever...when I promised I”d marry you...”Peter whimpered, tears thickening his voice. “...Does me wanting this with him take away  what we had?”</p><p>
  <em>No</em>
</p><p>He swore he could sense her beside him, feel her taking his tense hands and kissing the stress away. </p><p>Just like Wade did. </p><p>“He lives Vanessa’s memory, every day. Breathes it in and out. Embraces the pain and the grief...Is there just something wrong with me?”</p><p>
  <em>No</em>
</p><p>Tears burned his cheeks. </p><p>“How does he do it?”</p><p>
  <em>You, Pete</em>
</p><p>He shook his head, forcing away the comfort from the ethereal memory, nothing but a memory...nothing but a longing. </p><p>Not waiting for the water to heat up, he ducked his head under the frozen stream and bit back a scream from both the chill and the overload of sensation. </p><p>“Dammit,” he wept, curling on his knees on the floor of the shower. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Peter had been out of the shower, dried and dressed and sulking on his perch by the living room windowsill, when he told Wade he’d emailed Dr. Xavier for an available phone session. The reply came in record time, the professor telling him that Peter could call in half an hour.</p><p>He couldn’t believe how nervous he was, or how quickly that thirty minutes went. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.</p><p>The time came, and Wade was true to his word, curled up in his Throne (the stained fabric giving away what it was originally used for before Peter paid to have it professionally cleaned), his headphones on and Whitney Houston remixes blasting as he read comic books on his tablet. When Peter tapped on his shoulder to let him know he’d be going into the bedroom, Wade lifted his eyes, flashed that knee-weakening, childlike grin, and gave a cheery thumbs up. </p><p>Peter swallowed hard, ignoring the temptation to just lock himself in their room for an hour and only fake having an appointment, and dialed the restricted number. </p><p>It hardly completed its first ring before the famed telepath answered.</p><p>“Good morning, Peter.”</p><p>“Morning, Dr. Xavier.”</p><p>Peter sighed tightly. He hated this part. </p><p>“Then skip it, Peter. You can just tell me why you’ve called, and why you’ve waited until now to call me. I don’t mind skipping the conversational pleasantries.”</p><p>Peter couldn’t help a dry chuckle. Dr. Xavier didn’t read his thoughts often, but when he did, it was usually to spare Peter the social awkwardness he constantly found himself in.</p><p>So he did. He told him—about moving in with Wade, about the quarantine, about his lack of sleep. And, as always, Dr. Xavier listened without interruption, only giving brief commentary when Peter stopped and asked him what he thought. </p><p>It wasn’t until he got to describing his nightmare from the night before that his voice faltered. </p><p>“It’s alright, Peter,” the older man said kindly. “Take a deep breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth, and tell me as simply as you can why you called me today.”</p><p>He shut his eyes, as though that would make it easier to describe.</p><p>“I dreamt about her again, Dr. Xavier,” Peter whispered, voice tight. “...About the night she died.” </p><p>Dr. Xavier hmm’d, but didn’t say anything. </p><p>“I ended up climbing the ceiling,” he continued. “I didn’t realize I was up there until I lost my grip and fell.”</p><p>“Are you alright, Peter?”</p><p>“I guess,” he replied. “...Wade caught me, and bandaged me up. Got a nasty bruise on my knee and a cut on my shoulder from hitting the bed frame.”</p><p>He forced himself through another deep, shaking breath.</p><p>“Sometimes, I feel like she’s talking to me. Not in full blown sentences or something...but I can feel her words. They’re...kind.”</p><p>“Did you expect otherwise, Peter?”</p><p>“Well, no, but I’m with someone else. And I can’t imagine being with anyone but him now.” He bit his tongue, hard. “Doesn’t that mean I’m cheating on her? On her memory?” </p><p>He huffed, biting his lip and wishing he hadn’t made the call. </p><p>“—Am I going crazy?”</p><p>“No, Peter. Not at all. It’s perfectly normal to feel what her responses would be...you two were together a long time...and far be it from me to negate any theory that says those in the afterlife cannot still communicate in some way with the living they left behind. Look at what Dr. Strange experiences daily, hourly, in his meditations. What you’re describing is not beyond the realm of possibility.”</p><p>“But is it beyond the realm of possibility for me to move on with my fucking life?!” Peter wept. </p><p>He pressed his head into his hand and sobbed into the phone. </p><p>“Dr. Xavier, what am I going to do?! I can’t keep carrying the guilt of her death without driving myself insane, but it’s my fault she died. And I can’t keep burdening Wade with my distance. My inability to commit.” </p><p>He sniffed, wishing he could sink through the floor. </p><p>“We’re living together, but I still plan in the back of my head of what I’d pack if I needed to make a clean getaway.” </p><p>He stopped, sighing and swallowing hard. </p><p>“But then my gut sinks and my heart breaks thinking about not waking up next to him or his adorable smiles.”</p><p>“...You’re in love, Peter,” Dr. Xavier said softly. “And falling in love after losing a love is a very beautiful and very painful thing.”</p><p>“I need your advice, Dr. Xavier. Please. For once, can you just tell me what to do?”</p><p>There was silence...a much longer strain of silence than Peter was ever used to from his mentor. </p><p>“I’m sorry, doc,” Peter murmured, crushed with guilt at such an unfair demand. “I’ll let you go—“</p><p>“Peter.”</p><p>He paused, rubbing hard at his burning eyes. </p><p>“Y-Yes?” he stuttered. </p><p>“I’m going to ask you a question. You may not like it, but I think it will lead you to the advice you’re looking for, if you’re willing.” </p><p>He sighed. “Okay. Shoot.”</p><p>“What would Wade tell you, if you asked him for advice?”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, Dr. Xavier, seriously?!”</p><p>“If you weren’t living together, and you were out webbing late one night trying to clear your thoughts, wouldn’t one of the first places you’d go be the apartment building you’re in right now?”</p><p>Peter opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, choking on a sob. </p><p>“Oh god,” he wept. “I’m the problem. It’s me.”</p><p>The other man’s voice was kind, and gentle. </p><p>“No, Peter. You are at your most vulnerable right now, letting him in. It’s natural. You’re both learning how to do this...how to let yourselves be there for each other, and to love each other, when the masks are on, and off.”</p><p>“I haven’t worn my mask in weeks, Professor.”</p><p>“That’s not the kind of mask I’m talking about, Mr. Parker.” </p><p>He couldn’t do this anymore. Not like this. </p><p>“I have to go,” Peter snapped, voice clipped with tears. “Thanks, doc, for squeezing me in.”</p><p>As bitter as he sounded, deep down Peter was grateful. He just didn’t want to deal with what Dr. Xavier told him. </p><p>“Goodbye, Peter,” he said, the disappointment and concern clear in his voice. “Don’t shut us out because you think we don’t want to help. Either me, or Wade, or Mr. Stark, or any of the Avengers or even our X-Men. We care about you, Spider-Man, even when you can’t patrol. You don’t have to face these things alone.” </p><p>“Bye, doc,” Peter bit as he pressed the red phone to hang up and threw his phone across the room. </p><p>Wade was afraid Peter was going to hurt himself. Until today, he’d never thought it was a possibility. </p><p>Peter curled his arms over his head and sobbed into his knees.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m so sorry for the cliffhanger, but I promise this isn’t the end. Poor Petey’s in a dark place, but he isn’t alone. This fic is going to cycle through a whole heap of relationship angst, and then circle back to quarantine smut/fluffiness, and Wade’s love languages will shine. The pain and heart hurt will be worth it, I promise. ❤️🥰</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tempers and anxieties clash as Tony and Wade are both called by Dr. Xavier over Peter’s worsening mental health.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is rough yall, but important to what I’m planning for these lovable and wounded idiots. </p><p>I know I’m prolly the only one who wants this fic continued, but I haven’t been able to get it off my mind (and admittedly, it’s helping me work through some 2020 related trauma), so I’m trucking along so I can get back to the Spideypool happy smut we all love. </p><p>TW in this one for implied/referenced self-harm.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wade startled awake at the siren sound blaring on his cell phone. There were three people with that ringtone in order to get his attention no matter what: Peter, Dr. Xavier, and Logan. Logan and he were at odds again (that bastard stole his last popcorn canister from the North Pole amusement park, and he refused to talk to him again until he returned it!), so it wasn’t him—and Petey wouldn’t bother calling him from the other room.</p><p>His gut clenched when he saw it was Dr. Xavier. </p><p>Glancing at the clock, he saw that it had only been a few minutes since Peter’s appointment with him was supposed to end. </p><p>“Hello?” </p><p>“Wade, hello. It’s Dr. Xavier.” </p><p>He was already at the bedroom door, stomach shrinking at Xavier using his first name—and panicking when he found the door locked. </p><p>That was a rule they had—they never locked doors on each other. </p><p>“Fuck,” Wade breathed, icy terror locking his knees. “What happened, Doc?”</p><p>Dr. Xavier cleared his throat, the hesitation making Wade nauseous. </p><p>“Without violating his trust, I need to tell you that Peter is not in a safe state right now.” The chill of worry in his tone shook Wade to the marrow in his bones. “I’m afraid he’ll hurt himself—or worse—if left alone. I’ve already been in touch with Mr. Stark, but I wanted to make sure you knew. Don’t leave him alone, Wade.”</p><p>“Got it,” Wade said, military numb in combat mode already taking over the nerves that would normally have him sobbing hysterically at the thought of anything happening to his Spidey Baby, let alone something he’d do to himself. </p><p>“Wade, remember—he isn’t like you when you err towards self-harm. Being overly attentive may drive him in the opposite direction.” </p><p>Wade stopped mid-step from slamming his shoulder through the locked door. </p><p>“Then what am I supposed to do, Doc?” Wade demanded, nerves making his voice shake. “I can’t leave him alone, but I can’t help him?” </p><p>“Think of it this way, Wade…when you want to harm yourself, you feel numb, cold to the world. When Peter goes in that direction, it’s because he feels everything <em>too</em> much. You crave attention, both physical and verbal, when you want to take your life. Peter’s senses, both because of his temperament and his mutation, amplifies everything to the maximum. Showering too much attention on him may backfire.”</p><p>“Shit...Yeah, I got it. So, what should I do?” </p><p>“Stay with him,” Dr. Xavier continued. “Make sure you take away anything he may be able to hurt himself with. Just don’t let him leave your side. Mr. Stark is going to be in touch with you about keeping a watch on him.”</p><p>“I don’t need Iron Dick’s help keeping my Spidey safe,” Wade hissed. </p><p>“You need to be able to sleep, Wade,” Xavier gently continued. “The last thing I want for you is to be driven to an episode where you’ll be no good to yourself or him.” </p><p>Wade sighed, hanging his head and fighting tears. </p><p>“What if I fail, Doc?” he whimpered. </p><p>“You won’t,” Xavier assured. “You’re not alone in this, Wade. Mr. Stark will go into more details when he calls, but it’s going to be okay. Just until then, don’t leave Peter’s side.” </p><p>“Roger dodger,” Wade replied. “Thanks, Doc. For everything.”</p><p>“My pleasure, Mr. Wilson. Don’t hesitate to call again should the need arise.” </p><p>Wade hung up and sighed, deciding to go with Xavier’s advice of less is more and pick the lock instead of busting the door down like he wanted. </p><p>He’d just gotten the pieces of his lock pick kit out of his duffle bag when his phone rang again, with the Darth Vader theme song this time—it was Stark. </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“I’m on my way,” Stark said. “Are you packed?”</p><p>Wade nearly dropped his phone. “Packed? What the fuck are you talking about?” </p><p>“Just got off the phone with Xavier—he felt it best to move Peter to the Tower immediately so he could be under surveillance, since traditional psychiatric observation isn’t an option.”</p><p>“X didn’t tell me that,” Wade hissed. “But…he’s right.” He swallowed hard. “...Am I coming, too?”</p><p>Tony sighed sharply. “Yes. Xavier made sure that was also part of the discussion—he said it would make Peter worse to separate you two.” </p><p>Wade wanted to both screech laughing at the defeated sound in Stark’s voice and at feeling so validated by Dr. Xavier. No one ever had as much faith in him before. </p><p>“Are you with him now?”</p><p>“No—he barred the door, and Xavier didn’t think me busting in guns blazing would be best.”</p><p>“I don’t give a fuck if he tries to jump out the window—get in there, Wilson. We’re not losing him. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Get him ready.” </p><p>The call disconnected, and Wade felt a bit of the complicated hatred toward Iron Lung ease in his chest. He cared about Peter, too, in a weird foster father sorta way.</p><p>Throwing aside his lock picks, he kicked along the inside panel of the door and it caved in, pieces of wood flying across the room. </p><p>The form laying in the bed, covered by the blanket, didn’t even flinch. If Wade couldn’t barely see the rise and fall of his shoulders, he would’ve thought he was too late. </p><p>“Petey?” he asked. “You awake?”</p><p>Wade stopped with a full-body spasm at the drops of blood surrounding the broken glass of Peter’s cell phone in a pile against the wall, a trail of crimson leading to the bed. He forced himself to not freak out, to not hyperventilate. He swallowed hard, clenched his hands behind his back, and stepped forward, slowly. </p><p>“Petey...guess what? We’re gonna go on a little vacation! We’ll get to swim and everything. And watch as many movies as we want, and eat ice cream until we barf. It’s gonna be awesome.”</p><p>“Don’t bullshit me, Wade,” Peter’s haggard voice hissed from the covers. “Xavier called out the cavalry and Stark’s coming to put me in a straight jacket.” </p><p>“Don’t knock those straight jackets! They’re warm and OH SO stylish.” </p><p>Peter flinched at that, and Wade wanted to cut his tongue out. </p><p>Dammit. He needed to remember Xavier’s advice and not make this worse for him. </p><p>Wade knelt on the bed with one knee. </p><p>“Petey, did you—?”</p><p>Before he could finish, Peter turned over, revealing a bathroom towel wrapped around his right wrist and hand. </p><p>“I didn’t mean to,” he whimpered, voice dry. “I was trying to pick up my phone—I cut my fingers…it was an accident, Wade…” Peter’s eyes were filled with tears. “But…I wanted to do more…” He scowled. “Xavier and his damn telepathy.”</p><p>Wade could’ve fallen to his knees in gratitude for the mutant gene. </p><p>“How long do we have before he gets here?” Peter whispered. </p><p>“With how fast he was driving, maybe five minutes.”</p><p>Peter swallowed, looking up at him with those wide brown eyes, and lifted the blanket next to him. </p><p>“Please,” he murmured, eyes tight as though he felt guilty for asking. </p><p>“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Wade said, crawling in around him and pulling him close. </p><p>Peter was full-bodied trembling, and Wade never hated himself more. </p><p>“I shouldn’t have pushed you to call him,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Baby Boy.”</p><p>Peter curled closer, still shaking as he burrowed into Wade’s chest. </p><p>“Do you regret being with me, Wade?” </p><p>He tightened his hold around Peter’s waist.</p><p>“No…not even a little.”</p><p>“Maybe you should.” His face tightened as though he was going to cry. ”...I’m so sorry, Wade.”</p><p>“Don’t be, honeybun. There’s no shame in needing help.” He nuzzled closer, it taking every shred of willpower not to kiss him. “You taught me that.”</p><p>“I don’t know if I can be helped,” Peter whispered. “I’ve felt like this for a lot longer than I’ve told you.”</p><p>Wade squeezed his hand. “I know you have, baby. But I also know there is always hope—that’s another thing you taught me.” He kissed Peter’s temple. “I’d better pack our stuff or Stark’ll rip off my balls.” </p><p>He went to stand but Peter clutched his t-shirt in his shaking hands. </p><p>“He can wait for us to pack…please don’t go yet.” </p><p>Wade soothed him with gentle shushes and tightened his arms around Peter’s shoulders. </p><p>“Alright, Baby Boy, alright. I’m staying right here.” </p><p>~~~~~~~~~</p><p>If it weren’t for Peter, Stark really would have ripped off his balls. Wade hadn’t thought about unlocking the door for him, but it didn’t appear to be necessary—not five minutes later, Stark was pounding through the living room and stood in their bedroom doorway, dressed in a black cotton face mask, torn jeans and an ACDC shirt, every kind of judgment and disgust on his face for finding Peter near-catatonic and Wade sprawled around him like a monkey, petting his hair and muttering soothing things in his ear. </p><p>“What the hell are you doing, Wilson?” Stark hissed. “We don’t have time for this. Pack your shit and let’s go.” </p><p>“Not until he’s okay,” Wade hissed back, kissing Peter’s cheek and rubbing his shoulder as he stood. “You ready to go, Petey?”</p><p>“Wilson, get the fuck away from him,” Stark snapped, removing his ridiculous sunglasses to hang them on the front of his shirt. “The last thing he needs is you sending him over the edge again.“ </p><p>Wade nearly clocked him. </p><p>“You think this is my fault?!” </p><p>“I don’t remember him being this way before he met you,” he muttered matter-of-factly, eying the clothing-covered floor with disdain. “Now go put on your suit before you make me sick.” </p><p>“Stop it!” Peter screamed, pressing his hands over his ears. “Both of you shut the fuck up! You two are the most immature men I’ve ever met.”</p><p>Stark rolled his eyes, and Wade stuck out his tongue.</p><p>Peter rolled over onto his knees and took Wade’s shoulders. </p><p>“ ‘Pool, knock it off. You can relax, okay?!”</p><p>His stomach dropped to his knees. “But Webs, I—“</p><p>“Do I look like I’m about to off myself?” Peter hissed. “Calm the fuck down,  or I’m not going anywhere.” He then turned to Stark with a deadly glare. “And if you insult my boyfriend one more time, I will never speak to you again.”</p><p>“Alright, I think that’s enough pleasantries for the day.”</p><p>Rogers walked in, dressed in a red and blue facemask and a deliciously tight gray t-shirt and jeans, and nodded dutifully to Wade. </p><p>Wade sighed, surprised to admit how relieved he was that Captain Underpants was here. </p><p>“Lay off, Tones,” Steve continued. “Your temper is not going to help anything.”</p><p>Before Stark could snap a response, Rogers removed his mask and sat at Peter’s feet, meeting his eye, giving him a warm, concerned smile before turning to Wade.</p><p>“Go ahead and get a bag packed for both of you,” he said gently. “I’ll stay here with Pete. Tony—go wait in the car. The real last thing we need is you upsetting him any more than you have.” </p><p>Peter didn’t disagree, and Wade was still furious and glaring silent daggers at the arrogant asshole, so Stark pounded out of the room, muttering curses as he slammed the apartment door shut. </p><p>As soon as Tony was gone, Peter’s chin started trembling and he buried his head in his towel wrapped hand. </p><p>“I feel like such an idiot,” he wept. </p><p>Steve slid in next to him and pulled him onto his shoulder. </p><p>“You are <em>not</em> an idiot, Peter,” Rogers assured him, meeting Wade’s eye with a wounded glance. “You are an incredible young man who’s had a hell of a lot to deal with in his life. We don’t fault you for that.”</p><p>“And what about that Zoom meeting? I flashed everyone. And then I hurt Wade and I snapped at Tony and—“</p><p>Steve shushed him, letting the younger super burrow into his chest as he sobbed. </p><p>Wade stepped forward to help, but Steve shook his head, winking in reassurance and nodding him back to their closet. </p><p>“I love you, Baby Boy,” Wade whimpered from the doorway. </p><p>Peter didn’t reply.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I PROMISE there is happy, wonderful, adorable, and hawt stuff coming. We’ve just gotta get Peter a little help first. </p><p>Stay healthy and safe, y’all!! Love ya!! 😘😘❤️❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Peter, Wade, Steve, and Tony are on their way back to the Avengers compound, and anxieties run high as all their worries clash.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know my summary is terrible, but the pacing for this fic took an unexpected turn, so I'm trying to take it in stride and post updates (even slightly shorter ones than I normally post) in order to keep the flow of the plot going, and to keep me writing on it. I have LOTS planned for this one, far more than I was seeing originally, and I'm really excited and nervous for where it's going to go. </p><p>Just FYI, this chapter gets pretty dark, y’all. Lots of angst, LOTS of self-destructive tendencies, and lots of hurt feelings, and some building in tension between Tony and Steve, Wade and Peter, and all that good stuff. </p><p>White’s quotations are in [ ] and Yellow’s are in { }.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[Knew you’d break him]</p><p>{This is even better than Vanessa—Wade’ll get destroy him twice}</p><p>He didn’t have the energy or the evidence to argue with them, though it took biting his lip bloody to keep from snapping a reply—sitting a foot apart from Peter in the back of Tony’s corvette. </p><p>Wade wanted to say something to Baby Boy--some wisecrack to make him laugh, or even piss him off, just to get something out of him--but Webs was so strung up he recoiled in fear when Wade moved to put on his seatbelt. God knows what speaking to him would do. </p><p>It took every shred of willpower he had left not to throw himself into traffic. </p><p>“Peter?”</p><p>Wade met Tony’s eyes in the rearview mirror and turned to Webs, still curled against the seat. </p><p>He wouldn’t put on his suit, before they left. Rogers and Wade both begged him to, until his eyes glassed over and he sat motionless, staring into nothing, and Wade followed Steve’s prompting and dressed him in some sweats and a baggy sweater. The hood would cover his face if anyone happened to look into the car and make out his features through the darkened glass. Wade packed his Spidey suit, anyway, though it felt like the molted snakeskin in his hands. </p><p>It'd been months since he’d put it on—why hadn’t Wade noticed that?</p><p>“Peter, please say something,” Tony said, tone grating, and Steve shushed him, barely a hiss of breath between his lips. Glancing between the seats, Wade saw Rogers rest his fingers on the gear shift, over Tony’s clenched hand. Stark didn’t pull away, and he didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Even before Covid, Wade hadn’t been to the Tower in years. He blew off debriefings, only occasionally meeting Webs on the roof for meet-ups before taking contracts outside of the city or even the country. Although he knew this was the best way to help Peter, he still fought the suffocation of panic gripping his chest. </p><p>“You alright, Wade?” </p><p>It took him a full minute to see that Rogers was talking to him, his head turned. </p><p>He cleared his throat awkwardly and ran his hand over his mask-covered mouth. </p><p>“No,” he replied. “But I’m not the one I’m worried about.” </p><p>Steve nodded, and Peter sniffled, though with how far gone he was, Wade doubted it was in response to what they said. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Peter wouldn’t get out of the car after Tony parked in the Tower garage. He lay still curled against the seat, door ajar, and eclipsing Webs in shadow under the blinding white fluorescent bulbs that glinted off of Stark’s endless row of sports cars. </p><p>“Want a hand inside, Petey?” Wade asked, still sitting next to him.  </p><p>Peter’s hands twitched in his lap, but he didn’t reply. </p><p>Wade got out and shut his door as quietly as he could and hovered awkwardly behind where Steve stood next to Tony. </p><p>“Peter, c’mon—best view’s inside,” Stark said, leaning against the car, his tone casual but the wrinkle in his brow betraying his worry. </p><p>Wade felt nauseous at the pity he felt for him—or maybe just nauseous at the pity he felt for Peter, and for himself. </p><p>Steve nudged Tony over and stuck his head in, lifting Peter’s chin with his hand. </p><p>“I’m not leaving you in here, Peter,” he said. “So you either get out of the car, or I sit with you and recite the Constitution from memory, over and over again.” </p><p>Wade coughed to cover his snorted laughter. </p><p>[C-can he do that?]</p><p>{He’s Captain America—why not?}</p><p>Peter grumbled, clambering out of the seat and slamming the door shut behind him. Tony’s wince at the sound made Wade chuckle again, and Steve and Tony both stared at him, one with far more malice than the other. </p><p>“Real mature, Deadpool,” Tony muttered. </p><p>“You would know,” Wade snapped. </p><p>Rogers smacked the back of their heads one after the other and said, “Get upstairs, both of you. One conflict at a time.” </p><p>Peter hung on Steve’s arm like a cane, limping along beside him and keeping his head turned into Cap’s shoulder. </p><p>Wade wondered if Peter had made light of the bruise on his knee when he’d fallen the night before—or if it was just the weight of it all that made it harder to walk. </p><p>“Damn elevator,” Tony hissed at the closed chrome doors, slamming his fist against the already-lit button and tapping his foot impatiently. </p><p>“Tony, it’s alright,” Steve murmured quietly. “We’re all safe now. It’s okay.”</p><p>“No, it’s not.”</p><p>Wade’s stomach clenched at Peter’s mumbled words in Steve’s arm, and the latter tugged him tighter against him. </p><p>“Let’s get you upstairs, Pete,” Steve said, meeting Wade’s eyes with more worry than even back at their apartment. “And we’ll get you comfortable.” </p><p>Though Steve had helped bandage Peter’s hand and fingers before they left, the super still gripped the appendage as though it was going to fall off if he didn’t. </p><p>“Is your arm hurting, Peter?” Steve asked. </p><p>He shrugged, Wade reading the twitch in Peter’s jaw as though he’d spoken aloud. </p><p>“It’s not,” Wade jumped in, immediately regretting it when Peter flinched.</p><p>“Don’t speak for him, Wilson,” Stark hissed. “That’s not going to help.”</p><p>The elevator doors finally opened and Stark barreled inside, Steve and Peter following him with slower, measured steps. </p><p>Peter’s mop of brown hair covered his eyes as he shuffled into the corner next to Rogers, and Tony wouldn’t look at anyone, even while Rogers silently begged him to with an extended lock of his eyes—he just glared at his feet and scuffed his leather shoe back and forth across the tile floor. </p><p>Wade suddenly understood the asshole, and couldn’t hate him anymore. This was all a mask for his worry. Stark tried to control everything to try and make it better—not unlike Wade when he was on a job. </p><p>“Aren’t you coming, Wade?” Steve asked as Tony slammed his clenched knuckles on the floor button. </p><p>Webs looked worse now than after his night terror when he dropped from the ceiling, gasping and choking as Wade kicked the bed aside and took the bulk of Peter’s weight as they hit the floor—he was a shell of himself huddled in Wade’s too-large hoodie—Webs’ favorite, one with the Spideypool image on the front, a small heart patch sewn in the middle.  </p><p>The patch was Peter’s idea. They still shared the hoodie, but it was really Peter’s now. </p><p>For good or ill, that heart was Peter’s. </p><p>Deadpool muttered, grunted, and gripped his hand tight over the handle of the knife hidden at the small of his back. </p><p>“Nah, I-I’m good. I think I’ll just—take a cab back, grab some things I forgot.” </p><p><em>And maybe sneak in a reset on the way…it’s not like Peter’ll care now.</em> </p><p>[FINALLY]</p><p>{Look at him, all ready to break the longest streak he’s ever had} </p><p>[What’s that phrase, when the going gets tough?]</p><p>{The tough splatter their brains on the sidewalk in front of the new children’s hospital—try explaining that one, CBS news}</p><p>Before Wade could finish turning his back on the supers still in the elevator, door held open by Steve’s extended hand, he felt an icy chill run down his neck at the precisely enunciated syllables, ringing with utter clarity in his head: </p><p>
  <strong>Get in the elevator, Wade.</strong>
</p><p>Xavier. </p><p>
  <em>Fuck off, Doc—I’ve got enough voices in my head already. And it’s a little late to help us now. Peter’s a lot better off without me.</em>
</p><p><strong>You know that’s not true, or you wouldn’t be here at all.</strong> </p><p>The elevator rang out a high-pitched alarm from the door being held open so long, and Stark stepped out and hooked Wade’s arm with his hand to try and tug him inside. </p><p>“You don’t have to go, Wilson,” Stark muttered. "I brought you here, you can stay."</p><p>Was this some semblance of sympathy? From <em>Tony Stark</em>? It couldn’t be. </p><p>Maybe he was right not to hate him anymore. </p><p>“I don’t trust you alone in my garage, anyway.” </p><p>Nevermind. He still hated the prick. </p><p>[Oooooooo BUURRRRNNNNN]</p><p>{Hey, I wouldn’t trust you either—but I am itching to drive that Porsche over there}</p><p>[If you get the Porsche, I get the Lamborghini]</p><p>{Maybe we could just drive the town car through the plate glass window}</p><p>His fingernails were already tearing through the callouses on the inside of his palms. </p><p>Steve punched Tony’s arm, hard, sending him back against the wall with a curse and a whine, and Peter jumped at the noise, finally raising his brown eyes and fixing them on Wade’s. </p><p>“I think it’s better this way,” Deadpool said to him, kicking his foot between the closing doors and stepping back into the garage. </p><p>“ ‘Pool,” Peter rasped, holding out his free hand, the excess edge of the bandage curling around his palm. “Please.”</p><p>Tony at last had the decency to look apologetic, and Steve glanced at the floor to give them the illusion of privacy. </p><p><strong>Whether he admits it or not, he needs you, Wade.</strong> </p><p>
  <em>Not as much as I need him.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>You don’t give him enough credit for how much he loves you.</strong>
</p><p>As the elevator doors closed, Peter wrapped his free arm around Wade’s and tugged him close, resting his cheek on his shoulder. </p><p>
  <em>Another one of your mind tricks, Doc? Or is he really not disgusted by me.</em>
</p><p>The floor levels beeped as the elevator glided smoothly up the floors, reaching eleven, twelve, thirteen, and the further up they got, the more tense Peter became. </p><p>
  <em>Doc? You didn’t answer my question.</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>If you don’t know that answer by now, Mr. Wilson, nothing I say will convince you.</strong>
</p><p>“Almost there, Peter,” Steve said. “You’re getting Banner's old room—which happens to be right next to the lab. You get to work on experiments and things when you’re feeling better.” </p><p>“While supervised, of course,” Tony muttered under his breath. </p><p>“Wouldn’t want him to blow the building up,” Wade hummed. “Like you have, about eighty times.” </p><p>There it was—a flicker, a sparkle of laughter in Peter’s eyes, an aborted chuckle in his throat. </p><p>Even Rogers laughed at that one, and Tony tried to burn a hole through the floor with his eyes. </p><p>“I knew it was a bad idea to take you along,” he hissed. “What does Peter see in you, anyway?”</p><p>Steve groaned and hissed, “Tones, I will shove you out your office window if you don’t shut your fucking mouth.” </p><p>Another four floors went by with soft <em>beep…beep…beep…beep</em>s, when Peter mumbled into Wade’s shoulder,<br/>
“He makes me laugh.” </p><p>
  <strong>There’s your answer, Mr. Wilson.</strong>
</p><p>Despite everything, Wade couldn’t help but smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>More good stuff coming! Lots of healing, facing past traumas, and LOTS of sexy times coming up, I promise. Thanks for reading, loves! Stay healthy and safe!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tony, Steve, Peter, and Wade make it out of the elevator in the Avengers Tower, and are confronted with a half-drunk Bucky. </p><p>Insults are thrown, and Peter comes out of his stupor in a bad way.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A timeline note here--I picture it with a slightly altered Civil War chronology--namely that Steve and Tony are *slightly* reconciled after an undisclosed resolution between the two sides, and that Bucky is undergoing treatment, and is on a tentative basis with the Avengers, but is *not* handling his recovery from HYDRA well. That being said, Peter is still as he was in Slushees--in his late twenties. </p><p>Also. OH MY HEART. </p><p>I got lots of good stuff coming. This is the start of a turning point for Peter, finally.</p><p>TRIGGER WARNING for Bucky making some nasty comments about suicide.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Where’s Banner’s room?” Wade asked as the elevator closed behind them. </p><p>Sunlight streaming through the bay windows of the Tower burned his eyes and he brushed the outside of his hand against Petey’s. </p><p>“Just down the hall, past that security door at the end,” Rogers replied. </p><p>“Oh perfect,” Stark groaned as he surveyed the room. </p><p>Bucky “You fuck with my arm again, Deadpool, and I’ll literally rip you a new asshole” Barnes was playing Diablo on the tv to the right of the elevators, sprawled across the couch with an impressive pile of beer cans scattered across the coffee table in front of him.</p><p>Guess he had bad brain days, too.  </p><p>Stark sniffed and cursed. “It reeks in here. Barnes, if you’re going to drink that much you could at least go to the Tower bar.” </p><p>“Wanted to play,” Barnes muttered. “No Xbox down there.”</p><p>Rogers tightened his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “Thought you were on a mission, Buck.” </p><p>“Romanov grounded me from the op for calling her a bitch.” </p><p>After forcing the tantalizing image of a punishing Black Widow out of his mind, Wade snickered. Good for her. </p><p>“Sounds justified, Bucky,” Rogers leveled, Wade following he and Peter’s slow steps down the hallway. “You would never have called Carter that.” </p><p>Barnes grunted, and Rogers shook his head. </p><p>“Everything alright?” Wade asked. </p><p>“Peachy,” Rogers replied, faking a smile. “Let’s get Peter settled and we’ll go over our gameplan.”</p><p>Wade nodded and kept his eyes fixed on Peter’s pale face. He hadn’t eaten since the night before, and even then, it was all he could do to get Webs to eat half a slice of pizza and some cookies. He’d gone radio silent again, and all Wade wanted to do was get him in bed and rested up. Maybe he could order some take-out and find a tv room to binge some movies. Give him some normalcy.</p><p>Barnes hung over the side of the couch, remote dangling from his hand. </p><p>“What’s wrong with him?”</p><p>“None of your business,” Stark snapped from where he leaned against the wall, waiting for Peter and Steve. </p><p>Peter tensed and shuddered, murmuring something into Caps’ shoulder. </p><p>“It’s alright, Pete, we’re almost there,” Steve reassured. “We’re gonna get you some good rest.” </p><p>Bucky chuckled, thick and wheezing. </p><p>“Kid finally snapped, huh? Surprised it took that long.”</p><p>Wade just freed his K-bar to leap across the couch when Stark beat him to it, grabbing Bucky by the throat with his now-equipped Iron Man arm and slamming him down on the coffee table. </p><p>“S-Stark, what the—fuck!” Barnes choked, gripping Tony’s forearm and kicking his legs, pounding his feet on the table and sending beer cans clattering and rolling onto the floor. </p><p>“Apologize,” Tony hissed. “Now.”</p><p>Wade knew from experience that Bucky had more than enough strength on nearly everyone but Rogers to free himself—but he also knew that Bucky wouldn’t fight Stark. He wanted to stay in the Avengers—and pissing off the one person that could keep him there would not be a good choice. </p><p>“Tones—“ Rogers said, voice catching. “Let him go.”</p><p>Wade smirked, arms crossed over his chest. </p><p>He wasn’t about to intervene. The asshole deserved it.</p><p>“Apologize, Barnes,” Stark said, lifting Bucky off the table to dangle three feet off the floor. </p><p>“S-sorry—“ Bucky sputtered behind clenched teeth. </p><p>Tony dropped him, Bucky hacking and coughing as he rolled to his side, sweeping crushed cans out from under him. </p><p>“Clean this up,” Tony said, straightening the crooked sunglasses on his shirt. “I’m not running a frat, for Christ’s sake. And take a shower—you make the whole floor smell.”</p><p>Bucky sneered, sitting up with a groan.</p><p>“Please go, Buck,” Rogers said, shielding Peter in his shoulder. </p><p>"Whatever, <em>Captain</em>," Bucky hissed. </p><p>“Just say, ‘Yes, Daddy,’ and be glad I didn’t get to you first,” Deadpool snapped, keeping himself between Peter and Bucky. </p><p>They’d finally reached the doorway when Bucky spat on the floor, rubbing his neck with his hand and saying, “That walking STD finally leeched into his brain—no wonder he wants to off himself.” </p><p>Peter stopped, and his arm dropped from Cap’s. </p><p>He turned, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. </p><p>Fists clenched. </p><p>Shit. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>“Goddamit, hold him! I can’t inject this needle just anywhere.”</p><p>A sting in his forearm, and the trembling thrashing became impossible to continue—his limbs were weights, numb and tingling. </p><p><em>Fuck</em>, the room was spinning even with his eyes closed, and a pulsing, searing heartbeat ached in every joint and muscle. Like he’d been in one hell of a fight.  </p><p>Was that why he couldn’t move? Or open his eyes?</p><p>“Damn, that smarts.”</p><p>“That’s a deep cut—you alright?”</p><p>“It’ll heal—always does.”</p><p>Wade. Wade would help him—but he couldn’t lift his arms, and his mouth was filled with sawdust. </p><p>“I gave him enough sedative to take down a horse.” Dr. Banner—somewhere in the distance, in the haze and fog of pain radiating from his bound wrists and ankles. “But it should balance with his mutation and help him get some actual sleep.”</p><p>Peter gurgled, thrashing his head back and forth against the pillow under his head. </p><p>When did he lay down? When did he get off the elevator?</p><p>The last thing he remembered was the warmth of Wade’s arm against his cheek—the comforting smell of his skin. </p><p>“Was it this bad last night?”</p><p>Stark—that was Stark.</p><p>Had he hurt someone?…Had he hurt himself?</p><p>“This is worse,” Wade replied, voice thick. </p><p>Peter extended his fingers, willing his eyes to open, his mouth to move—but he was being dragged to the ocean floor by a lead weight. </p><p>“Let him sleep,” Rogers said, his warm hand resting on Peter’s forehead. </p><p>He keened behind his useless lips until a scarred thumb ran across his mouth, a scarred palm cupped his cheek. </p><p>“I’m here, Peter,” he murmured in his ear, calloused lips kissing his temple. “It’s alright. Sleep, Baby Boy.”</p><p>He didn’t want to fight him…</p><p>That voice was home…the safest place in the world…</p><p>He slept. </p><p>~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>…….</p><p>
  <em>Will you ever forgive yourself?</em>
</p><p>…….</p><p><strong>No. I can’t.</strong> </p><p>…….</p><p>
  <em>What are you accomplishing, blaming yourself?</em>
</p><p>…….</p><p>
  <strong>If I can’t avenge your death, I can punish myself for it.</strong>
</p><p>…….</p><p><em>What would you want me to do, in your place?</em> </p><p>…….</p><p>Searing pain, tightening at the base of his skull and down his back, tensed his arms and tingled his toes. </p><p>…….</p><p>
  <strong>Please don’t leave.</strong>
</p><p>…….</p><p>
  <em>What would you want me to do, Pete?</em>
</p><p>…….</p><p>He pressed his thumb into the groove of his name, carved in the tombstone Gwen hovered over, shaved and shortened blonde hair dripping with rain and hands shaking as she gripped her temples between her hands, crouched over her knees in the mud. </p><p>…….</p><p>
  <strong>I’d want you to be happy. And free.</strong>
</p><p>…….</p><p>Warmth soothed his spasms, his jolting body relaxed and stilled, calm breaths. </p><p>…….</p><p>
  <em>I knew you would.</em>
</p><p>…….</p><p>
  <strong>I love you, Gwen.</strong>
</p><p>…….</p><p>
  <em>I’m glad you have him, Pete. Don’t let him go.</em>
</p><p>…….</p><p>
  <em>And I love you, too.</em>
</p><p>…….</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright loves, we're getting there! So much smut coming. And cuddles and some Natasha love and some healing, and some continued Stony! (Which will hopefully branch off to become its own thing). I can't wait to share it with y'all! Thanks for reading this fic--y'all are the best. </p><p>Stay happy and healthy and safe, and treat yourself tonight! You deserve it &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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